I mean, it wasn’t planned at all. My intention was to thank him, get in my car, and drive off.
Instead I throw my arms around him and tiptoe to press my lips to his. When he responds by wrapping his own strong arms around me, it seems so right that our tongues get involved. I’m practically swooning in what is by far the hottest kiss of my life. As I press my body against his, I can swear I feel an erection poking me.
It seems to last forever, and Grayson feels amazing, smells amazing, and tastes amazing. I kiss him more passionately than I’ve ever kissed a total stranger before. And there’s no doubt: That is definitely an erection.
When we finally come up for air, we lock eyes again and I’m unsure whether I should regret my impulsive move.
“What the fuck?” he says.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Grayson doesn’t even hear me. He’s in a daze, looking at everything except me.
That’s when I see the snowflakes. Big fat ones, floating down from the heavens.
“Snow in LA?” I ask incredulously, still buzzing from the kiss.
“And there’s not a cloud in the sky. This is bizarre.”
Then he finally puts his eyes back on me.
“Back to that kiss… no need to apologize. It was pretty hot. A perfect little moment.”
“It was,” I say, “but I didn’t plan it. It just happened before I could stop it.”
Grayson smiles, and I have to say it’s a devastatingly sexy smile. “It’s okay, Callie. No need to be coy.”
That was unexpected. It didn’t have the tone of an insult, but it sure felt like one. “Am I being coy?”
“Trying to say you’re not interested in me is a little strange, considering.”
What is he talking about?
“Considering what?”
“Considering you’ve practically been stalking me for the last few days.”
He may still be smiling, but that was an insult. “Me? Stalking you? I think you’ve got that backwards, buddy.”
He scrunches his face. “Um… yeah, I don’t think so.”
“You’re the one who sent the Facebook friend request and liked me on OKCupid.”
Now he looks irritated. “That’s not funny. Don’t try to twist this around. You were the one trying to contact me, not vice versa. Then you had security call me to come jump your car. It’s a little creepy, to be honest.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I say before I can stop myself. “In fact, now that I think of it, I wonder if you’re the one who arranged for me to get an invitation to this party.”
We stand there, both glaring at each other as the snow stops falling. It’s much too warm for the flakes to stick and it immediately looks as if it never snowed.
I go to my car, stopping just long enough to say, “Stalker!” before I slam the door. As I pull away, the firefighter just stares at me, slowly shaking his head.
What a total asshole.
I mean, it’s one thing to want to play it cool about being interested in someone, but denying he was the first to attempt contact is just fucked up.
Like I said: asshole.
So why can’t I stop thinking about that damned kiss?
Grayson
This is unbelievable.
I’ve been Googling away for half an hour now and can’t find even a single mention of snow falling in Los Angeles last night.
Not one. Nada.
I begin to wonder if it wasn’t some wacky localized weather phenomenon, like when it rains in one place but stays dry fifty feet away.
Strange as it is, it’s still not nearly as weird as that Callie chick. Whoa.
I don’t know what to make of her. First the online stalking, then the probably faked car-not-starting thing, then the kiss out of nowhere. And to top it off, she accuses me of being the one doing the stalking. It was one of the weirdest nights of my life.
I have to say, though, that kiss was magnificent. The minute or two we were locked together was utterly exquisite, and by the time we finished I was hard as a rock. Good thing she didn’t notice, because she probably would’ve accused me of something, because that’s exactly the sort of thing crazy chicks do.
What bothers me more than anything, though, is that just thinking about that kiss gets me hard all over again.
What is it with this woman?
The one thing I usually hate about being a firefighter is getting jolted out of bed in the middle of the night. This time, though, I’ll take it because I was dreaming about kissing that Callie woman. I struggle to hide my hard-on as I get into my gear, and fortunately it’s gone by the time I climb aboard the truck.
The adrenaline of a 3:20 a.m. call gets my blood pumping to other areas. We pull up to the condominium complex in Culver City and luckily, there’s no visible fire or smoke, so we’re pretty early. Hopefully this will be no big deal.
At least a hundred people are standing around outside, and I spot one woman standing in a long T-shirt and thin pajama pants. A very shapely woman, that is. Then I realize it’s Callie.
What are the odds?
She’s shivering, so I quickly grab a spare jacket from the truck and bring it to her. “Here, put this on,” I say as I run off to do my job. I can’t help but laugh at her surprised expression.
Ten minutes is all it takes for us to determine the alarm was set off by a smoke bomb in an empty storage area in the underground parking lot. No chance whatsoever that it could have caused an actual fire, but the smoke was thick enough to set off the alarm and sprinklers, so a few dozen cars got free washes.
The smoke bomb itself was in the shape of Santa Claus. Ho, ho, ho. I wish I could get my hands on the moron who thought this would be funny.
We let the building’s residents know what happened. As they start filing back inside, I locate Callie.
My intention is to smugly ask for the jacket, then walk away without a word.
“This is getting really bizarre,” she says. “I swear I didn’t set off the alarm.”
I hadn’t considered that possibility. Looking down into that beautiful face, I start to tell her I need the jacket, then suddenly have an overwhelming desire to see her again, not to let this chance meeting go to waste.
“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. How about having a Christmas drink with me tomorrow night?”
She looks into my eyes for a moment, as if she’s trying to determine my trustworthiness.
“Okay,” she says.
Just one word.
Two little syllables and I instantly get a strange sensation. The only way I can explain it is that it feels like someone has turned on Christmas lights in my chest. But in a good way.
The other night we met, shared an incredible kiss, then accused each other of stalking.
Let’s just hope our second date is better.
Callie
One drink into our first real date, Grayson and I have already determined that our Facebook and OKCupid accounts were hacked. Maybe the culprit was a mutual friend, though we can’t come up with a single friend we have in common. Maybe some algorithm just threw us together because we matched up on a bunch of factors that we’ll never figure out.
Maybe we’ll never really know what happened.
The one thing I do know beyond a doubt that’s true is that he’s a gorgeous, sexy man with a sweet side which is unexpected, given his alpha-male looks and profession. And I want to sleep with him.
Okay, that’s two things, but regardless, I have never felt this kind of instant chemistry with a man before. If I’m ever going to break my draught, this is the perfect guy to break it with. I’m even willing to waive my “Minimum of Three Dates First” rule for him because I’ve seen that body.
Most of it, anyway. And I want to see the rest tonight.
Judging from the way he keeps stealing glances at the cleavage exposed by my scoop neck tank top, I have to think he feels the same.
He signals the bartender
and asks for a second round, then leans in close enough to whisper in my ear. “So, Callie, are you re-thinking your opinion of me?”
Holy shit, he smells so delicious. I just want to eat him, bite by scrumptious bite. “No,” I whisper solemnly, then add, “I already did, the moment you brought me that jacket.”
“I didn’t want you to freeze.”
“What about you? How do you see me now?”
He leans back and appraises me visually, up and down. I feel so damned sexy when this man looks at me like that.
“I think you’re crazy.” I scrunch my brow. “Crazy hot,” he adds with a grin.
“We’ve already established that you don’t have a current girlfriend. How about a psycho ex? Secret babies? I’m trying to figure out why no woman has staked a claim yet on a guy like you.”
“No psycho exes or babies. I’m as single as can be. Not even a dog, what with my long hours. You?”
“One cat. No exes still on the scene. Haven’t even had a boyfriend in ages.”
“Awesome,” he says, raising his glass of scotch. “Here’s to us.”
We clink glasses and take a sip, then he leans in again and whispers, “So you think we should see each other again after tonight? Want to get to know more of me?”
“Yes,” I say as my hand takes on a life of its own and settles palm-down on the bulge I noticed on his upper thigh. “Take me home, Grayson.”
I have never said such a ballsy thing in my life and I’m not even sure why did just now. Sure, I want to sleep with the guy, but it’s almost as if my subconscious is in a bigger hurry than my body.
The bulges twitches slightly. “Your place or mine?” he asks.
“Whichever is closer.”
It turns out it doesn’t matter whose place is closer, because some kind of police activity has totally shut down this part of Pico Boulevard and the surrounding streets. We are literally sitting in his truck with no choice but to wait it out.
“I misjudged you, Callie,” Grayson says. “But that hacked account stuff was a little freaky.”
“I know, right? I totally thought you were a creep. Until we kissed. Anyone who kisses like that can’t be a creep; it’s physically impossible.”
He looks at the unmoving block of cars in front of us. “Just our luck. This is driving me crazy.”
“Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling us we need to be sure about this,” I say with a laugh. “We are kind of rushing into it.”
“Are you not sure?”
I look into those gorgeous brown eyes and see no reason to go slowly. “I’m sure. Very sure.”
Looking at the traffic again, he growls in frustration. “Dammit!”
Grayson shakes his head, then stops, staring past my head out the window. I turn to find what he’s looking at and see a sign reading “Hotel Playa.” The hotel is kind of seedy. Not dangerous looking, but certainly substandard.
“It’s calling us,” he says slyly when I face him.
I take another look and I do feel an attraction. What is up with me? Am I so horny that I just want to get to any bed with this hot man before he changes his mind?
“Well, it would be rude to say no, don’t you think?” I ask facetiously.
Grayson turns the steering wheel sharply and the truck lurches into the driveway.
As I wait anxiously in the truck, he goes up to the office and returns minutes later holding a key on one of those old plastic, diamond-shaped keychains. This is really going to happen. I’m going to have sex with the firefighter in a dingy hotel room.
For some reason it seems perfect. I must be losing my mind.
Grayson flips the light switch and we see our room. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s definitely not crappy. There’s a single chair, a desk built into the wall, and a mini-fridge. But the carpet and pain look new and the place actually smells nice.
And there’s a king-size bed, which is really the only thing that matters.
Grayson takes me in his arms and kisses me hard. My entire body feels hot and electric when our tongues touch.
“You sure about this, Callie?” he asks softly, his hand stroking the side of my neck.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so sure about anything in my life.
I nod, and Grayson immediately shrugs his jacket off, then unbuttons his shirt and practically rips it from his torso. I just about drool when I see that chest and shoulders again, and those carved-from-rock abs.
He removes my coat and tosses it on a chair, then leans into me, gently pushing my back against the wall. I can see the urgency as he stares into my eyes from a foot away while running a thumb lightly down the middle of my neck, making me tremble with need. Pressing his bearded cheek against mine, he whispers, “Callie, all night long I’ve had an intense desire to be deep inside of you.”
My hands explore his strong shoulders and chest. Grayson trails a single finger downward until it finds my nipple and gently rubs it through my shirt. I move to his abs, then slip one hand into his pants.
Just as my fingers reach inside, I find the tip of his cock. He’s hard as a rock and pointing straight upward. He moans softly as I push downward and take his warm, rigid shaft in hand, inwardly smiling at the size and how excited he is.
Grayson says, his voice raspy with need, “I will die if I’m not fucking you soon.” He undoes his pants and steps out of them, slipping his underwear, socks, and shoes off with them in one deft, elegant motion.
When I see how engorged that big cock is, I, too, worry that he’ll die if I don’t let him fuck me. And if he wants to be deep inside of me, he’s got the right tool for the job.
I peel off my tank top and turn away, so he can unclasp my bra. Instead he wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing himself to me. I can feel his cock against my butt and his hot breath in my ear.
In an even bigger hurry now that I’ve seen his hard-on, I unsnap my pants and as I lower them, he unhooks my bra and I feel it slide down my arms and away from my body. I get my pants off and turn around to face him, both of us finally, gloriously naked.
“Fuck me, Grayson,” I implore.
He lifts me off the ground and almost throws me on the bed, then he’s between my legs, rubbing his cock against my opening, slickening it with my juices. I arch my back when I feel him rubbing the head against my clit. Then I gasp as he pushes his way inside me and I’m filled in the most exquisite way imaginable.
My hands grip his shoulders and I tilt my hips up as I wrap my legs around him. Grayson’s physique is breathtaking; his entire body feels as hard as the part that’s inside of me.
He plunges steadily into me, then retreats and leaves me temporarily wanting. With each thrust, the head of his cock grazes my G-spot, something I’ve never felt with a man before. It’s an incredible sensation and I don’t want him to ever stop.
But he does.
First, he slows a little, then after a couple strokes, he slows even more. Finally, he comes to a gradual halt, then gives me a bemused look.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No. It’s just… it’s…”
“What?”
“I’m about to come. Already. And we just started.”
My confused expression prompts a more detailed response.
“Callie, your pussy feels amazing. More than amazing, it’s… indescribable. I’ve never… It’s all I can do to hold back, baby.”
Oh my God, that might be the sweetest compliment ever. I absolutely love that I have that effect on him. And ending it with “baby” makes my heart melt for this man.
“I don’t care,” I tell him with a dirty smile. “Don’t you dare stop fucking me.”
He smiles and thrusts into me, hard. I gasp as he resumes his assault on my wet, wet pussy. Slowly picking up speed with every few strokes, he’s soon pounding me hard, just the way I need him to. I hear him moan with need and it triggers something in me, something that builds rapidly until I feel an orgasm approaching. He’s m
ust be getting close, too, because he’s losing control, slamming into me hard.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groans.
“Don’t stop, I’m close!”
Grayson pounds me a few more times, then moans loudly as he erupts. The sensation of his hot cum inside me sends me over the top and it feels like my entire body detonates at once. I’m seeing stars as my muscles spasm over and over while Grayson continues to hammer away, pouring himself into me.
We lay there on that bed, both of us above the covers, taking in deep breaths.
I’m not about to tell him, but that was the hottest sex I’ve ever had.
“Wanna know something?” he says, slipping his hand into mine and intertwining our fingers.
I nod, still unable to manage a word.
“That may have been the best ten minutes of sex in my entire life.”
I tilt my head to look into his eyes.
“I’m not kidding, Callie. It was phenomenal.”
“I know,” I say letting his vulnerability guide mine. “It was for me, too. It was perfect.”
We lie like that, hand-in-hand, and talk about this intense connection we have that seemingly came out of nowhere. Neither of us understands it, but we’re both thankful we managed to get beyond the stage where we each thought the other was a stalker. That is so obviously not the case that the thought seems silly now.
Eventually, I roll over on my side and he plays with my breasts as we talk. I notice that his still half-hard cock begins to rise, so I slide down his body and lavish his balls with my tongue. Then I take that big hard-on into my mouth, and it seems like a perfect fit. All the while, he’s probing me with a thick finger, then two thick fingers.
When Grayson is again throbbing and rigid, and I’m about to burst with desire, I throw a leg across his belly and reach behind. Carefully I guide his cock into my wetness. Once I sink all the way down on him, I put my hands on his hard abs to steady myself as I begin to rock back and forth, undulating as I ride that gloriously hard dick.
It doesn’t take long before I come again. This orgasm isn’t as mind-blowing as the first, but it’s deeper emotionally, if that makes any sense, and just as satisfying. When I’m done, I climb off and finish the blowjob I’d started. Even after Grayson comes, I don’t remove my mouth. I don’t want to stop sucking him, so I just continue until he can’t take any more.
Dirty Little Secret Santa (A Santa's Coming Short Story) Page 2